


Little Things

by Shotgun_Cake



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, Ficlet Collection, Five-Sentence Challenge, Fluff, M/M, Rated ''Mature'' for some themes but the vast majority of the ficlets are perfectly innocent, Some AUs, just a load of very short stories, some canon-verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 5,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27417769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shotgun_Cake/pseuds/Shotgun_Cake
Summary: Collection of Berlermo ficlets and short stories.The chapters are not related to each other.~~~Ask Meme: “Write a sentence of a story for me and I will give you the next five.”
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa & Palermo | Martín Berrote, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 175
Kudos: 60





	1. I will set this house on fire

**Author's Note:**

> To work on brevity in writing, I tried my hand at answering prompts in short form. So [I wrote a bunch of ficlets](https://shotgun-cake.tumblr.com/post/632955578407403520/ficlets-by-shotgun) for a five-sentence ask meme on Tumblr. And now I'm posting them here too. Cheers!

“As God above is my witness, I will set this house on fire if you pull this bullshit again.”

Berlín had the audacity to laugh, as though Tokyo’s interruption was nothing but a minor inconvenience in his evening plans, instead of the mortifying ordeal it should have been.

“You said you’d be at the street party tonight”, Palermo casually replied, taking his sweet time to close Berlín’s dressing gown, “so technically, this is _your_ fault.”

He made no move to stand up from his position, on his knees in the middle of the living room.

Berlín put a hand on Palermo’s head again, gently threading his fingers through his hair, and that was Tokyo’s cue to turn around and sprint up the stairs.

The Professor sighed when he found her at his door, the haunted look on his face letting her know just how much he’d already seen.


	2. I could help you with that

“I could help you with that.”

“I don’t need any help!”, Martín snaps, even though he does put his book down – quite loudly – and falls back on the sofa with a groan of frustration.

Andrés can tell from the angry lines on his forehead that his head is pounding. Martín always gets headaches when he pushes himself like that, as though he keeps forgetting that his eyes aren’t what they used to be, not after–

Andrés picks up the discarded book and starts reading out loud, his other hand finding Martín’s thigh.

He can scream and shout all he wants, Andrés is taking him to an ophthalmologist first thing in the morning.


	3. Three in the morning

It was three in the morning and he was frozen to the bone, standing in the middle of some godforsaken forest with a shovel slung over his shoulder.

“Why here, Andrés?”, he whined, his voice shaking from the cold. “You couldn’t hide them literally anywhere else, it _had_ to be the creepiest forest I’ve ever seen? You know I’m a city person.”

Andrés just smirked, and Martín knew, even without a worded answer, that his reply would include some variation of _‘it’s for the aesthetic’._

“Here”, Andrés finally said, sticking his own shovel into the ground, “that’s where I buried the diamonds.”


	4. Desperate fantasies

It was like something right out of his darkest, most desperate fantasies.

The moment Martín had opened his eyes and seen him like that, his usual morning grumpiness had vanished completely, replaced by something soft, something warm, something like joy swelling in his chest.

The reason for his unexpected awakening?

Andrés de Fonollosa, sound asleep against him, was drooling on his shoulder.

Martín had fully expected him to be gone by morning, ashamed of what he’d done the night before, of who he’d done it with.

And perhaps there would be some of that later, but for a little while, Martín allowed himself to believe that it was all fine, that whatever happened next could never erase this memory from his mind: a peaceful, beautiful, _disheveled_ Andrés pressed against him, his head on Martín’s shoulder, his warm breaths caressing his skin.


	5. I'm filing for divorce

“I love you, but if you play that song one more time, I’m filing for divorce.”

Martín immediately lets go of the guitar strings, looking up to meet his husband’s eyes.

“Hey, we said no more threats involving the D-word”, he whines, an exaggerated pout on his face. “And Cinci specifically requested that song for the birthday party, so I guess you’ll have to drag your fine ass to another room while I practice.”

Andrés stands up, drops a kiss on his forehead, and is out of the room before Martín starts playing again.

“Baby shark, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, baby shark, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo–”


	6. If you wanted to

“Is this crack? Are you smoking crack?”

Tatiana looked down at the very normal cigarette she was holding, then back at her husband. Her perfect composure only seemed to make him more agitated.

“You don’t have to do anything with him, Andrés, all I’m saying is that if you wanted to… _you could.”_

She took another drag from her cigarette, surprisingly calm for someone who just encouraged their spouse to go have sex with someone else.

Before Tatiana could say anything else – that he should at least consider it, that she really was okay with it, that this was the healthiest option – Andrés took her hand, brought it to his lips, and smiled.


	7. Ghosts

“I never thought ghosts were real until you showed up at my door.”

Andrés tenses, as he always does whenever Martín calls him that; a ghost, a dream, a hallucination. It took weeks for him to believe it – that Andrés is alive, that he’s back, that he’s _real_ – but on days like these, it still feels like Martín’s eyes are miles away from him.

“You know I’m right here with you, right?”

Martín smiles, gives a little nod, and Andrés tries to smooth over the crease between his eyebrows, the doubt settling in once more.

He almost said _‘You know I love you, right?’_ , but that would have been worse, because no matter how many times Martín heard those words from Andrés mouth, they both know he’d sooner believe in ghosts.


	8. Anniversary

“Are you seriously ignoring me for the plan?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way, hermanito, but Martín and I don’t particularly want you there. And believe me, you don’t want to be involved either, as I said, we organized this heist for our–”

“For your anniversary”, Sergio finishes, the weight of these words finally settling in.

Oh, how he wishes he didn’t understand, how he wishes that Andrés and his husband planning a heist _together_ didn’t bring to mind so many horrific images, but unfortunately for Sergio, he knows exactly what this means: simply put, these two are definitely going to have sex in the middle of a museum… Happy anniversary!


	9. First day of school – [Denver/Mónica]

“No, you can’t bring your pet armadillo.”

“My _Sandshrew_ ”, Cincinnati corrects, “he’s not a pet, he’s a Pokémon.”

“Well, your _Sandshrew_ is staying home today, they only let you bring plush animals, I checked.”

Denver is _not_ going to cry – at least not in front of Cinci – he’ll be strong, he’ll keep it together until the bell rings and his son waves him goodbye with his tiny hand and–

“Who’s ready for their first day of school?”, Mónica asks.

Cinci yells in excitement, and maybe he’s ready, but Denver is not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt just didn't work for Berlermo, so I remembered La Casa De Papel had other characters.


	10. Out of the closet

“I won’t accept any complaints on this subject because this is your fault.”

And it was indeed _his_ fault; it was Martín who’d dragged Andrés inside the tiny closet, Martín who couldn’t stop himself from getting his hands on him, from kissing him, from actually looking at him for longer than a few stolen glances across the classroom.

And it was Martín, too, who hadn’t bothered to check if there was a key, a handle, anything that would allow them to open the door from the inside once their clandestine encounter had come to an end.

They could try picking the lock, or yell until someone heard them, and if worse came to worst they could always phone Sergio.

All valid options that flew out the window the second he felt Andrés’s body pressed against him again, firm hands digging into his waist, burning kisses peppered into his neck.

For once in his life, Martín found himself in absolutely no hurry to come out of the closet.


	11. The subjects

“You know I love you no matter what… But this is the ugliest thing you’ve ever made.”

Andrés has to stifle a laugh at that.

It isn’t in Martín’s habits to criticize his art, and in any other context, he would have taken offense, but he isn’t particularly happy about this specific painting either, and he knows Martín’s joke has nothing to do with his skills, and everything to do with Tokyo taking jabs at him all day.

“I guess I do what I can with the subjects I am given”, he sighs, adding touches of white paint to the dresses on the canvas.

Tatiana rolls her eyes but doesn’t move from her pose, used to the long painting sessions by now.

If it weren’t a wedding gift, he would absolutely have given Tokyo devil’s horns.


	12. I'm not jealous

“I’m not jealous.”

Martín could tell from the look on Andrés’s face that he didn’t believe him. Tatiana offered an apologetic smile and gave them a few moments alone, her white wedding dress flowing gracefully in her wake.

“I shouldn’t have agreed to this”, Andrés repeats as he walks towards him, “and it’s not too late, I’ll tell her to have someone else walk her down the aisle, okay?”

“No, I’m alright”, Martín insists, and with Andrés’s hands cupping his face, with his worried eyes trained on him, he really means it this time. “Besides, I’m still dying to see Tokyo’s face when she sees you giving away her bride.”


	13. Temple of the Crow – [Unsolved AU]

“I know you like crows, Andrés, but it’s getting out of control”, Tatiana scoffed, swatting another bird off the camera, only for it to land on the sound perch, tauntingly. “And stop rewarding them! They hate me, and most importantly, they’re going to ruin the filming equipment.”

Martín had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that the shooting location for their latest episode of Mayhem and Mystery would be one of the easy ones, but as it turned out, _Templo del Cuervo_ wasn’t just an ominous name.

Andrés kept throwing bits and pieces of cheese from their lunch – _from Martín’s lunch_ – on the grass behind him, and the crows rushed to catch them, as though following his every step. Martín was in awe of that, of how effortlessly Andrés had charmed the accursed birds, had fed them just enough to keep them close, always in the frame with him, their haunting croaks filling the air around them.

_“Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird”,_ Andrés started reciting, touching random stones and columns as he walked around the fallen temple.

“Keats”, Martín mumbled out of habit, and Andrés’s smile only grew, splitting his face like lightning split the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ficlet is inspiered by dashwood's [Berlermo BuzzFeed Unsolved AU](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1851757), the verse is hers, I merely borrowed from it (WITH PERMISSION!!).  
> [eldritch horrors](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25508140)  
> [witching hour](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26545213)


	14. But...?

“I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

And he meant it, with all his being, he meant it.

Andrés had found in Martín everything he could ever hope for and more, a partner in all things, someone who could love him inside and out, and that he’d been lucky enough to love back. Simply put, he was perfect, perfect for him in every way, perfect, period.

“You wouldn’t change a thing about me, but…?”, Martín asked, seeing right through him as always.

Andrés returned his smile, taunting, provocative, and simply handed him the razor.

“But the mustache has to go.”


	15. Hermanito

“How much would you hate me if I told you I knew all along?”

Martín reaches for his hand in a silent apology, beaming still, and he should be crying right now, he should be _sobbing_ , his whole body shaking as he stares at him, in shock, in euphoria.

Andrés drops the ring box on the table, sighing as confusion eventually gives way to disappointment.

“Don’t tell me that my own _brother_ –”

“He didn’t actually _say it”,_ Martín explains, gently squeezing his hand, “but he did start calling me _hermanito_ , and last month he sat me down to tell me I was _‘already part of the family’_ or something.”

He should be upset, no, he should be _outraged_ by this turn of events, but Martín’s eyes are shining bright with something much deeper than all the public effusions could ever convey, and when he finally leans in for a kiss, Andrés can feel the trembling lips, the wet cheeks, the quiet joy of his fiancé.


	16. Not playing fair

Car safety systems had come a long way, but he was out to prove they could be outsmarted.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you”, came Martín’s distant voice behind him, breaking the silence in the parking lot, “you’re this close to triggering the alarm.”

Andrés gave up on his attempt at lock-picking and turned to his friend, his reflexes just fast enough to catch the car keys Martín threw at him.

“Did you pickpocket the guy, or did you not play fair again?”, Andrés asked, hiding behind a smile the flames of his anger, burning, rising, taking over his body.

Because _of course_ , Martín had followed the owner of that car inside the bar, dragged him to the bathroom and offered him his mouth, maybe even his ass, before he’d even tried to reach for the keys…

“I don’t kiss and tell”, Martín teased, sticking out his tongue like a bratty child– no, not like a child, like the depraved creature that he was _. “You_ picked that car, remember? Now move over, I’m driving.”


	17. Gun to your head

Nairobi takes another sip from the bottle and falls back heavily onto Tokyo’s bed.

“Oh, I have a tricky one!”, she whispers – she shouts – between two fits of laughter. “Gun to your head, Berlín or Denver?”

Tokyo groans and clenches her eyes shut, and Nairobi knows it was a good one indeed.

“… Berlín I guess.”

“Bitch, me too! The fuck?”

Before she can think about her next question, the door slams open.

“Will you two shut the fuck up!”, Palermo yells, barely even dressed, and his hair all over the place. “It’s four in the morning, the whole house can hear you, and no, Nairobi, that wasn’t _‘a tricky one’,_ anyone in their right mind would have picked Berlín.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt line for this one was _“Bitch, me too! The fuck?”_ (yes, like the vine)  
> Watch me disregard the rules and _not_ make it the first line. (I LEGIT TRIED!!)


	18. Does it technically count as cheating?

“Does it technically count as cheating?”

The lawyer grins at Andrés’s question, infectious, charming, before he focuses on the file in front of him.

“It won’t be considered adultery, no”, Señor Berrote confirms, “so even though you’re not divorced yet… you _are_ free to ask out that lucky lady who caught your eye, all I need is your name here and here.”

Their fingers brush as he hands him the pen, and Andrés can see the way his gaze lingers on him, perhaps subconsciously.

He carefully signs the separation agreement and slides it over to his lawyer, pleased to spot just the hint of a blush on his cheeks before their eyes meet again.

“So, Berrote… are you doing anything tonight?”


	19. Intercom – [Inspector Berrote AU]

_“What are you wearing?”_

Inspector Berrote couldn’t suppress the smile that spread over his face every time he heard the taunting voice through the intercom.

“It’s a great outfit, Berlín, you should see how tight these pants are, my ass looks amazing in them…”

Martín ignores his colleagues’ disgruntled looks, focused on the sound of Berlín’s laughter filling his ears.

“Let me guess, _Inspector”,_ he drawls, his voice making it sound like something utterly filthy, “you’re going to suggest that I let you into the MINT so I can see it in person?”

“Well, if you’re inviting me in, it would be rude to refuse… of course, I’d have to bring a few hostages with me on my way out, I’m still on the clock, after all.”


	20. Prisoner – [Inspector Berrote AU]

“I hold people prisoner, _Inspector_ , not the other way around.”

The robber stands tall, holding his head high even as the armed officers are dragging him into the police tent.

Inspector Berrote doesn’t let the handcuffs around Berlín’s wrists and ankles fool him into any sense of safety.

“Enjoying the view?”, he drawls, the taunting grin never leaving his lips. “Or perhaps you hoped to see me all nice and tied up for you in a _different context_ …”

“I did dream of putting you in a cage, yes”, Martín bites back, tugging at Berlín’ handcuffs just enough to dig into the skin. “You and all your little friends still trapped in there.”

“They’re not trapped, and neither am I. Let’s talk for a bit, Inspector, _just the two of us._ In about an hour, you will escort me back into the MINT yourself.”


	21. You’ll come back

“It might be time to consider the wild possibility that you’re a good person and that people like you.”

“He can like me alright, but moving in together, _really?”_

Andrés laughs again, as though he thinks Martín is being ridiculous, when his breakdown is nothing if not justified. This is the longest relationship – the first honest to God _boyfriend_ – Martín has had since he met Andrés, of course he should be happy that it’s going well, that Fabio wants them to move in together, that what they have is getting _serious_.

But there’s the side job his boyfriend doesn’t know about, there’s the flooded vault Martín is so fucking close to figuring out, there’s the jewelry store they’re taking care of next month, and there's–

“Don’t you need me here?”, he asks, and Andrés’s comforting hand on his arm sends shivers down his spine.

“You’ll come back.”


	22. It’s always my fault, isn’t it?

“It’s always my fault, isn’t it?”

Andrés smirks, and even though it is _his fault_ , even though Martín wants to punch him in his smug fucking face right now, he can’t finish this conversation, not without another drink in his system.

“Is that what Fabio said?”, Andrés insists. “That he broke up with you _because of me?”_

Martín fights the urge to scream. No, that’s not exactly what his boyfr– his _ex-boyfriend_ said. But it’s not like he can tell Andrés the truth, can he?

“He knows it was you who totaled his car”, Martín says instead. “I took the blame, and he never forgave me for it. See? _Your fault.”_

Andrés laughs and pours them both another whisky.

_‘You’re emotionally unavailable’_ , Fabio said. _‘And as long as he’s in your life, that’s not going to change.’_


	23. A charming nephew

“Why don’t you go ask Helsinki?”

“Carmen already met Helsinki”, Martín whines, “she knows we broke up, I can’t fool her like that.”

“But you can fool her with me, can’t you?”

Andrés tries not to smile, because he knows full well he’s going to do it. Tía Carmen is the only relative of Martín’s who still talks to him, _of course_ Andrés will spend the weekend at her house, and kiss her hand, and tell her what a charming nephew she has.

But first, he’ll wait until Martín asks him nicely.


	24. The way he talks about men

“Of course I don’t get grossed out when she talks about men”, Martín slurs, pointing his finger vaguely towards Andrés’s face. “Because unlike _you_ , Tatiana likes men in a very bisexual way.”

Andrés tries not to laugh, but his friend’s drunken rant has reached new heights of unintelligibility, and he does find himself smiling fondly.

“And how do _I_ talk about men?”, he asks, wondering if the blush on Martín’s face is only due to all the tequilas he’s been downing tonight.

“You talk about men like they’re _puppets!”,_ Martín proudly exclaims, as though he just made a very valid point. “There is no vision, there is no _passion.”_

Andrés smiles again and decides it’s time to drop a few bills on the table and make their way out of the bar. He wraps an arm around Martín’s waist to make sure he stays on his feet, and doesn’t think of the way he talks about men, or looks at them, or holds them against him when they go out at night.


	25. In the garden

It was a really good Monday for being a Saturday.

Martín knew it was still the middle of the night, and yet he felt the gentle caress of sunrays on his face. He shouldn’t have felt that – he shouldn’t have felt _anything_ – not when the last thing he could remember was the rain of bullets, the puddle of blood.

He opened his eyes, saw the sun shining above him, and knew that he was dead.

Later that day, Martín would see the figure in the garden, recognize him from afar, recognize him without a word.

Maybe he would be ready then.


	26. The plan comes first

“Please, don’t go where I can’t follow.”

Martín knew it was unfair of him to ask that from Andrés; from _Berlín_ , actually. As long as they were in the Bank, no matter the state of his eyes, no matter the darkness or the pain, it was the leader of the robbery he was talking to, and Martín had no right – _Palermo_ had no right – to hold him back from his duties.

“Nevermind”, Martín added after a beat, “I’m sorry, the plan comes first, you should go with the others.”

The blindfold over his broken eyes made the silence so much heavier, but the hands cupping his face were gentle, and he nearly sobbed at the soft brush of lips against his neck.

“I won’t be long, _mi amor”,_ Andrés breathed against his skin, “I’ll return to you soon, I promise.”


	27. Plus one

“Would you really do that for me?”

Andrés is actually, honest to God, _pouting;_ as though this is a real question, as though he doesn’t know Martín will always say yes to him, no matter how difficult the task.

“Of course, it’s not a big deal, I love weddings!”, he lies, an he sells it. “Dancing, food, open-bar, what’s not to like?”

When his friend beams at him, Martín tells himself his pain will be worth it. It will be worth it, if only to dance with him for just a little while, to hold his hand and steal a few kisses, to glare at the bride, and smile at strangers, and go _‘Hi, I’m Martín, I’m Andrés’s plus one.’_

Going with Andrés to his ex-wife’s wedding will be a stroll in the park, compared to the other weddings Martín has been to, compared to the weddings he knows will keep coming


	28. The end of the rainbow

He reached the end of the rainbow and was surprised at what he found there.

“What are you doing here?”, Andrés called, grabbing his friend by the shoulder.

Martín flinched, before slowly mirroring his smile and pointing to the flag he was wearing as a cape.

“What am I doing at a pride parade?”, he mocked. “How about you take a wild fucking guess. I’ll give you three tries.”

Andrés laughed, delighted as always by his wit, by his presence. He realized he didn’t know Martín very well, but everything he’d learned about him so far, he’d liked.

So when Martín returned the question, when he asked Andrés what he was doing here, he simply told him.

He told Martín about the three banks and the two jewelry stores he knew were near the route of the Pride March; about the fact that the entire police force of the city would be focused on the parade all day; about the deafening music coming from the Drag Queens’ float, sure to mask the noise of any robbery that could very well take place today.

He didn’t comment on the flag tied around Martín’s neck, didn’t say anything about the fear he’d seen in his eyes when Andrés first approached him, earlier.

He almost said ‘I didn’t know you were gay.’

He wanted to ask ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

Instead, he put a gun in Martín’s hand and said “You’re coming with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five sentences... :) :) :) yeah, sure...


	29. Dance with me – [Knight/Prince AU]

“Dance with me.”

Ser Martín is about to laugh at the notion, to mock Andrés for even suggesting such a thing, but he already feels an arm wrapped around his waist, a warm hand holding his own.

It’s late into the night and the ballroom has been empty for quite some time, but Martín still twists his neck looking around nervously.

“Haven’t you danced enough for tonight?”, Martín questions, fighting a smile.

His prince only leans in closer, pressing his cheek against his as they sway leisurely to music that isn’t there.

“Not quite yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More on the _Prince Andrés / Knight Martín_ verse in [My sword is yours](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25796995/chapters/62660002)  
> 


	30. A monster

“When everyone knows you’re a monster, you needn’t waste time doing every monstrous thing.”

Paula sighs, for what is easily the fifth time since her Tío started monologuing, and needs to speed up to follow him out of the store.

“You brother didn’t say _‘monster’,_ though”, Martín chimes in, a comforting hand on his shoulder. “He said _‘bad influence’,_ and he was talking about the both of us.”

“Betrayed by my own blood!”, Andrés laments, draping a theatrical hand over his chest, where his heart used to be before Sergio ripped it out with his mistrust.

Her uncles wait until they turn around a corner before they look through Paula’s backpack, and let her have one of the chocolate bars they just shoplifted.


	31. Knife

“Be careful with that butter knife.”

“It’s alright Mama, I did really good at knife practice”, Paula explains, slowly putting it down next to her plate, “and I have great aim too, even with the big sharp ones, Tío Andrés said I’m a natural.”

She’s happy to see both of her uncles smiling at her, but Sergio chokes on his water a little.

“Andrés, she’s eleven years old!”

“And she has the skills to take down someone twice her size, hermanito, aren’t you proud?”

“Paulita, dear”, Tío Martín chimes in, “why don’t you tell your parents how fast you can reassemble a gun?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chaos Uncles, please and thank you...   
> They also babysit Cincinnati sometimes. He can’t form full sentences yet, but he knows how to pickpocket like a pro.   
> Paula aced her knife throwing lessons as well as gun safety, but she still needs practice on hand to hand combat. Tío Martín’s go-to advice to _‘‘just aim for the nuts’’_ was not well received by Tío Andrés, who insists she needs to know all the major arteries and vulnerable points of the human body. Just in case.   
> Let’s pray Paula doesn’t throw that many fits when she reaches her teenage years. Because, by the age of fourteen, she can probably take Sergio in a fight. Not her mama, though. But that’s because Raquel demands detailed reports of everything Andrés and Martín have taught her daughter. She knows she can’t stop them but at least she insists on staying in the loop.


	32. Five years

“If I saw you everyday forever, Martín, I would remember this time.”

_“Palermo”,_ he mutters, leaning away from his touch. “In this place– anywhere actually, you call me Palermo.”

He hasn’t changed much in the years Andrés missed him, but his voice is cracked, brimming with a hostility he hasn’t witnessed from Martín before, not up close, never directed at him.

“Aren’t you happy, _mi ingeniero?”,_ Andrés insists, still basking in the joy of their reunion. “Haven’t you missed me too?”

_“Five years”,_ Martín whimpers, pained, broken, and there is something of a stranger looking back at him with his friend’s eyes.


	33. Hickey

“I wish you’d stop marking me in places where people can always see.”

Andrés takes his mouth off Martín’s skin and pulls away a little, the half-bitten hickey only a light shade of pink, barely visible on his neck.

“Martín, _querido,_ remember you asked for this.”

There’s a question in his eyes, but before he can say anything, Andrés flips him around onto his stomach and pins his hips to the mattress, loving the little grunt he draws out of him.

He trails kisses down his back, brushes his lips against the soft curve of a buttock, and when Martín finally catches on – _“Oh my god, you’re not seriously going to…”_ – Andrés sinks his teeth into the tender flesh.

Martín squirms a little, obscene moans escaping his mouth, and Andrés keeps licking and nibbling at the skin until he’s sure he’ll leave a bruise.


	34. Master

“Oh, that looks like it’s gonna hurt in the morning.”

“It hurts _now,_ actually.”

Andrés brushes a finger against the two puncture holes, fighting the urge to lean in again and draw just a little more blood from his Familiar’s neck.

In spite of the whining, Martín still has an elated smile on his lips, his eyes glazed over from the intensity, the sheer _intimacy_ of the moment they just shared. 

“Thank you for indulging me, Martín. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Don't–”, he whimpers, pulling the lapels of Andrés’s cape. “You can always feed on me, Master. Always.” 

Andrés presses a delicate kiss on the corner of his mouth, and he can hear Martín’s blood singing in his veins, can feel the truth of his devotion. 


	35. You didn’t have to flirt with her

“You didn’t have to flirt with her.”

Andrés looks up from his plate – with wide eyes, with raised eyebrows, the picture of shock – as though he didn’t expect Martín’s outburst, as though he didn’t cause it on purpose. All Andrés had to do was take his eyes away from him for a moment, and of course he caught a glimpse of outrage in Martín’s burning gaze when he was chatting up the waitress.

“What are you going to do about it?”, Andrés asks, casually sipping his wine.

And just like that, it all vanishes from his face, the anger, the _hurt_ , replaced by greed, by a delighted smile, by the spark of desire in his eyes. Martín leaves the table without a word, and Andrés gives himself two minutes before he joins him in the bathroom.


	36. Neighbor

He picked up trash in his spare time to dump in his neighbor’s yard.

Martín hadn’t actually seen Fonollosa do it, but he knew it was him, he _knew_ , and that’s why he was perfectly justified when he tagged his garage door, or when he called the cops on him because, yes, his niece’s birthday party _really_ warranted a noise complaint.

The bastard retaliated by keying his car, then stealing his mail, and Martín nearly jumped with joy at the golden opportunity to bang on his door at six in the fucking morning, to confront him, to _destroy_ him.

But when Fonollosa appeared behind the door, with his bed head and his bright eyes, with his intricate dressing gown and his chest hair peeking out from under the silk lapels, Martín’s furious rant just died on his tongue.

“Uh–”, he started very eloquently, “do you– I think maybe the mailman fucked up and– can I please have my mail back?”

A silence stretched out, awkward, unforgiving, and when Fonollosa’s rudely attractive face broke into a grin, he said the absolute last thing Martín was expecting: _‘Good morning Berrote, care to join me for coffee?’_


	37. Dating

“I can’t believe you didn’t know we were dating!”, Andrés snaps again, a taunting hand playing with his hair.

Martín will never be able to live this down, will he?

All because Denver – always fucking Denver – wanted to know how long he and Berlín had been _‘in a relationship’,_ like it was a normal question, like it made sense. And when Martín didn’t immediately reply, Andrés took offense.

“Come on, _cielito_ , I’m sure you remember that day vividly, it was so... eye-opening, to say the least. You can at least pinpoint how many months it’s been, can’t you?”

And yes, sure, Andrés has been uncharacteristically affectionate lately, and of course, there’s this new– _physical_ aspect to their friendship that was quite a surprise, for the both of them it seems, but–

Andrés grabs his neck to pull him into a kiss, deep and passionate (and in front of the whole gang), and Martín decides he’ll gladly endure all the teasing in the world, indefinitely.


	38. Ice cream

The opportunity of a lifetime passed before him as he tried to decide between a cone or a cup.

The pretty blonde tragically disappeared into the crowd, without Andrés's phone number – without even having _noticed_ him – and Paula was still wrapped around his leg like a snare, crying, wailing, drooling on his brand new suit.

Sergio was going to owe him so much for this.

“Fuck it!”, yelled the overworked young man behind the ice cream counter. “You know what, my idiot boss isn't around, just take both the cone and the cup, and _chiquita_ here can decide which one she wants when she's feeling better. How does that sound, _Señor?”_

The boy handed him the two ice creams, with a grin that revealed an interesting gap in his teeth, and perhaps just the hint of a blush on his cheeks, now that Andrés actually took a good look at him.

“You've been a lovely little thing”, Andrés answered, spurred on by the way the young man called him _Señor._ “We'll be coming back for sure...”


	39. The sorcerer

“Crows are the greatest pet”, the sorcerer explained, distractedly feeding the bird sitting on his shoulder. “Everybody needs one.”

Martín had been more than a little skeptical, but now he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the women in the village hadn't fabricated any of the rumors about him.

Perhaps it was the crow, or the dark eyes trained on him, or the freezing night air after his long search through the woods, but Martín felt a chill coursing down his spine as the man approached him.

“I've been looking for you”, he mumbled, swallowing his fear, or was it actually fear? “They say you're very powerful, that you– grant _favors_ to those who have something to offer in exchange...”

The sorcerer grinned at him, his smile crooked and dangerous, and Martín wondered if there was a spell at play already.

“No man has ever sought me out before”, he said, surprised, amused. “Follow me, Martín.”


	40. Celebration of our love

“You forgot our anniversary?”

“Your anniversary was three months ago”, Sergio sighs as he enters the house.

He feels underdressed when Martín joins them in the hall, his hair slicked back, dashing in a suit that matches Andrés's.

“Oh, _hermanito_ , three months ago was the _wedding anniversary”,_ Andrés tuts, his arm finding his husband's waist as he glares at Sergio. “Surely, you didn't think we'd celebrate just the one?”

Sergio did bring them a gift last summer, for their _real_ anniversary, and even played along at the boat party they threw on what they called _‘Proposal Day’._.. But this is the fifth _‘celebration of our love’_ he's been invited to this year. And if the newlyweds' bedroom eyes are any indication, this one isn't going to be one of the tasteful ones.

Raquel chose to stay home with Paula tonight, and oh, how Sergio envies her right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now you get to choose which anniversary they're celebrating tonight.
> 
> Maybe it's _‘Pickpocket-iversary’_ a.k.a the day Martín tried to steal a tourist's wallet on a busy street in Buenos Aires, and said tourist crushed his wrist and pinned his arm behind his back and said _‘if you're going to be a thief be a good one or none at all’_ (and they've been together even since).
> 
> Or perhaps it's the celebration of their first heist together – _‘Atraco-versario’_ – or even the day of their LAST heist together: an event that includes the entire gang, because they were all involved in that one, right? Except when Andrés and Martín talk about it, it's like no one else was there but the two of them with their guns and their gold.
> 
> One of their best parties yet is probably _‘Passion Celebration’_ , because ‘‘of course hermanito we honor the anniversary of the first time we made love. It is a precious and important day in our history. Here's a poem I wrote about what my husband looks and sounds like in pleasure. You may proceed to the corridor where the paintings are on display.’’  
> (Okay nevermind. That one. It's that one.)
> 
> There's also something called ‘Chapel Day’. But they don't have guests over for that one. They share a simple dinner and put on a few vinyls and slow dance to _‘Amado Mio’_ in their pajamas. And when Martín suggests they take out a bottle of wine, Andrés says yes, but doesn't let him go get it and starts kissing him instead.
> 
> The End™


	41. In the corridor

He said he was not there yesterday; however, many people saw him there.

“For the last time, I did _not_ touch your tequila”, he hisses, waving his arms around in outrage, “you don't even buy the good stuff.”

“We all know it's you Palermo!”, Tokyo insists, an annoying squint on her face. “Río saw you sneaking around in the corridor right in front of my room. At three in the morning.”

He would gladly point out that Río had no business lurking anywhere near Tokyo's room anyway. But then again, neither did Martín. 

“He didn't do it”, Berlín chimes in, not even looking up from his newspaper.

**Author's Note:**

>  **@[ _shotgun-cake_](https://shotgun-cake.tumblr.com)** on Tumblr  
>  **@[ _Shotgun_Cake_](https://twitter.com/Shotgun_Cake?s=09)** on Twitter


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